I love my life. I am so happy to be non-monogamous. My life is so full of love and amazing people. No, it’s not always like this. Sometimes I feel jealous or frustrated. At times it’s difficult to get my needs met because resources like time and money are scarce. But right now I am floating in a nice happy poly ocean of love.

My girlfriend has joined our family enclave. She has her own space, but she’s hanging out in the house a bunch. This is so good for me. I can’t even say – I’m ecstatic to have all of my people gathered together. Evidently this is what I do. I create family. And Blyss is fitting right in to our crazy family life.

She has her own adventures. She goes off and does her own thing for periods of time. I am totally happy to have her follow her pleasure, but when she is gone my heart reaches for her like my hand reaches for chocolate, only to discover that the secret stash is depleted. Then she comes back and things are all rainbows and sparkles again. She has a way of making me feel good about myself.

This last time she returned chock full of New Relationship Energy (NRE). It’s adorable. She found herself a beautiful boi and is twitter-pated. Sadly, he lives 15 hours away – but he may come visit us in a few months. I hear about him a lot. I don’t mind. It’s very sweet. They are at the sharing naughty photos stage of their relationship so I get sexted a bit. In fact, I got naked pics while I was chatting with the other soccer mommies! All the joy flows all over everything.

Blyss is asking my advice about Topping. It’s forcing me to realize that I AM actually a Top. Without a thought, I can dish out suggestions for Domination. It’s even let us have a discussion about what power dynamics might look like between the two of us. I’m looking forward to making it a reality. I’m also enjoying Blyss’s fantasies about her new boi – that we might “double date” when he visits so I can teach her some CBT technique. I think it sounds hot!

I think with two husbands, it really helps to have some feminine influence in my life. She’s not afraid to apply a loving 2×4 when I need it. Blyss even helped me sort out an argument with Harold this week. Harold’s wife, Melanie is often helpful in these ways, but we have a different dynamic, more of a partnership. And that is working very well right now too.

Three romantic relationships that are fairly serious, plus a metamour who is a co-parent,plus four children at home is a lot of people’s needs to keep in mind. So far, we’re doing it. I have almost as much sex as I could want. The oxytocin high is getting me through my days. Occasionally I struggle with a hard bit, but mostly I wonder how anyone gets by in a monogamous relationship. I am so lucky in love. I love my life.

My lover is 24 years older than me. That didn’t seem like a problem at first. We felt like teenagers in love together. He felt like my peer, my equal, my partner in crime. Sure we had different experiences growing up, but that was largely cultural – east coast money vs. west coast hippy. Then we got pregnant and I started to think about how old he would be when our baby was born, went to kindergarten, graduated from high school…

He was 58 when we first got together. We had danced around each other for a few years before that. We have always had a strong sexual connection. I think I let that blind me into ignoring our age difference. In fact, age doesn’t mean anything to me. We are who we are and we fit together fantastically. That’s all that matters.

Except that lately, it matters more. He’s almost 64 – that magical Beatles age – and I will indeed still need him, still feed him when he’s 64. I’m watching him age. There are more lines in his face. He was having erectile problems, but through a radical diet change, these problems have largely self-corrected. I don’t need him to have a hard-on for good sex anyway. He’s running in the morning now too. He’s taking care of himself which I respect so much.

He is 24 years older than me. Considering that men tend to die at a younger age than women, he is very likely to die before me. I guess it’s taken me 5 years to fully realize this fact. This man who is the greatest passion of my life is going to abandon me, not because he wants to but because nature will demand it. I get angry and sad when I think about it.

And then I think, why borrow grief from tomorrow? Why not wring every drop of joy from today? I have so much to learn from him and wild experiences to share with him. I will be devastated to lose him, but the love that we share will always be mine. I plan on making every moment an adventure until one or the other of us stops breathing. Who can say what will happen? If it comes to it, I will take pleasure in caring for him when he can no longer do it himself. He has saved me a hundred times over. Our relationship is characterized by the tenderness we have for each other. Why not celebrate it now and always?

By David Steinberg

This coming to terms with mortality is changing how I look at my relationships. Things can change so suddenly, and while I don’t want to put energy towards a negative outcome, this risk of loss has honed my appreciation for the people I care about. No more taking my lovers for granted. Every kiss is precious. Each love is to be cherished. I challenge each of you to contemplate what it would be like to suddenly be without your love(s). Now use that information to create the today you desire. Life doesn’t last forever.

When I start to feel bad about my body, I go through short term love-affairs with specific parts. I have, at different times, enjoyed my toes, my lips, my clitoris, my ass, and my hands. This adoration is both an exploration and a celebration of myself. It feels private and intimate – just something that I do with and for myself.

Currently, I love my breasts. They need my love. My breasts are not the same since I lost weight. I haven’t been very comfortable with my breasts because they look different, but I am transforming my self esteem with love.

I like my curves, but my favorite part of my breasts are my nipples. I am so sensitive! I want my lovers to play with my nipples until I come. Squeezing and tweaking them gets me so hot!

Guys, not all of us want you to hit the G-spot. I know you’re excited that you found it, but some of us just don’t like it.

G-spot stimulation makes me feel like I have to pee. Whenever I say that, I’m told, “Oh, yes, but you don’t really have to, so ignore it. It’ll make you squirt!” Feeling like I need to pee is not remotely erotic. I can’t ignore it. Worse, it’s the same sensation as a urinary tract infection, and we all know how fun those are.

Female ejaculation is not the Holy Grail. I’m good without it. Really. If someone is determined to make me “squirt” they’re doing it for themselves, not for me. I’ve done it, and didn’t even realize it had happened until my partner pointed out the truly gigantic wet spot on the mattress. (Ew.) Oddly, it wasn’t from G-spot stimulation.

The trouble is that I generally have sex in a D/s context, with my partner the dominant, and I don’t know how to tell him I don’t like it. I feel like I’m upsetting the balance of the power exchange. Dominant males almost never ask me what I like, or when they do, it’s a rhetorical question. “Yeah, baby, you like that? Huh? Come for me!” I can’t bring myself to say, “No, not really, but thanks for trying.”

I know I should be honest. The guy won’t learn if I don’t tell him, and he doesn’t want to keep doing something I don’t like. But I can’t seem to figure out how. Help? Anyone?

I’ve always looked up to Amelia Earhart. When I was little I would pretend to be her. I even named one of my daughters after her. Recently, I discovered that Amelia Earhart and her husband, George Putnam, had an open marriage. How cool is it that the woman I grew up respecting most was also poly?

For this week’s Sinful Sunday, I finally fulfilled a childhood dream and got my own aviatrix gear…

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I love the feeling of weightlessness. Jumping on the trampoline is pure joy for me. In this photo I had just been fucked and filled full of jism. Every time I bounced some leaked out, so I was flying in a spray of our love manifest. Blast me to the moon!

I’m feeling tired, angry, and burnt out. I spend a lot of time talking about how wonderful I think sex is because I BELIEVE in the power of sex. My belief is that sex is the source of healing for all things emotional and even some things physical. Sex sets us free of our normal limitations. Sex allows us to connect with each other and the universe. Sex is powerful, so people fear it and abuse it.

I hate that sex abuse is everywhere. I appreciate that people are bringing it out into the open. I loathe secrets. Secrets are the death of healthy sexuality, and often of sanity. Privacy is fine, secrets are not. In sex, more knowledge and more communication means a better experience for everyone. I’m glad that I can read about sex abuse all over the internet and share stories with friends – this is the beginning of finding solace. Sex abuse is one of the most isolating things I can think of, so lay all your stuff out, not just to free yourself, but to free everyone from secrecy.

I could save myself some pain by shutting it all out, but I feel like I owe it to every survivor who wants to talk about what happened to them to listen – to witness their bravery. It takes some guts to come forward because every former victim I’ve ever talked to started out thinking that it was somehow their fault. It breaks my heart. I hate that the experience of sexual abuse at any level is so pervasive. From street heckling to incest, these are all perversions of sexuality.

I’m so tired of aching over my own abuse. I’m bored with wallowing in my own sadness, shame, and anger. It isn’t the whole of who I am; I am not the abuse. I have worked hard and long to let go of these emotions, but I still feel damaged. Maybe the scar tissue never goes away. I just want to find a way of carrying my baggage that’s easier and doesn’t chafe.

How can it not chafe? Why shouldn’t I be fucking angry? Why shouldn’t I be yelling from the rooftops? I’m pissed. I’m livid. I should be beating down the walls. But I have to be angry in the right ways – smart ways. I could hate sex, but I don’t. Sex is not my enemy. Sex is MINE, I own it. I’m not afraid of sex any more. Sex connects me with myself and the people I love. I get a great deal of my needs met through sex.

I could hate men, ignoring the fact that not all abusers are male. Whether subtle or overt, I see a lot of women deciding that despising men will make them feel better. It’s safer to keep men at a distance. I think this is damaging on so many levels. Yes, people can use their strength and power in evil ways. This does not make everyone with strength and power evil. There are traits that I admire in people of all genders that might make them risky to me if I let my fear drive, but the truth is that I like partners with those traits. What I try to communicate to my children and my partners is an admiration for those traits and the expectation that I will be treated with respect. I don’t make a big deal about it, it’s just my truth.

Any of partners might be an easy target for my rage, but I know that would make me an abuser. My loved ones do not deserve my anger about sex abuse. They are trying to help me. Sometimes I just well up with frustration and helplessness and I’m looking for the nearest thing to lash out at. Or I’m honestly trying to work through the emotion and it leaks into our interactions. Then I own my emotions, do damage control if necessary, and find other ways of processing. I want my relationships to stay as clean as possible. I get so much out of the love that I share that I’m not about to dirty those waters.

Where should my anger go? Back to the people who took away my right to choose. That’s difficult because it’s painful to look straight at those memories. It’s easier to think that I’m reading a story or watching a television show – something that happened long ago and has no more power over me. But to be mad as hell, you have to live it. No one can do that all the time.

I’m tired because I’m not just fighting my own demons, I’m also fighting the culture we live in. I believe that some abusers are themselves victim of the system. I’m not defending their actions, I’m just recognizing the patterns. I recently read some accounts written by men who had raped. Some of them were genuine sociopaths who knew that they had done wrong and were gratified that they hadn’t been caught. What struck me though, was the number of men who raped because of poor boundaries, lack of communication, and intoxication. Most of these men raped in high school or college and have spent the rest of their lives feeling like horrible monsters. I know first hand how the women they raped must have felt.

Why are so many young people having sexual experiences that scar them for life? Is it maybe that we are failing as a society to give them the tools they need to have successful, fulfilling relationships and sexual encounters? I don’t want my children to learn about sex while drunk at a party. And I don’t want to worry about them getting raped by some asshole while getting drunk at a party. Why don’t we teach (and model) good sexual behavior? Let’s make sure everyone learns about consent: Yes means yes, the absence of a “no” does not mean yes!

This is where I try to channel my anger. It’s not that I’m lighthearted about sex. I know all about the vast dark underbelly of sexuality, I just don’t choose to live there. I love sex. I want to protect the sanctity of sex – for me, for you, for the next generation. I fight to show all of the glorious aspects of sex so that I can change the way that our culture handles sex. I want people to know that you can get through sex abuse and have healthy sex lives. I know that the darkness is there, I just light my way forward with love and beauty.

I believe the most effective and radical act you can do to change the world is to be open and honest about your whole self. It’s hard to do to. It’s scary. It could be life threatening or cause you to lose everything you hold dear. And yet, I think many of us reach points in our lives where it becomes more painful to repress the truth about ourselves than to face our fears.

I recently had an opportunity to exchange emails with Kendra Holliday of www.thebeautifulkind.com. She is an amazing woman who has been blogging about her life for six years and has faced many challenges, but ultimately has been able to create the life she wants for herself and her family. Kendra is someone I admire because she is just such a radical activist. She is incredibly brave and she is educating people everywhere she goes.

Because I wanted to know how Kendra manages to be so open, I asked: You are the only person (besides myself) that I have seen blog honestly about their sex life while still being real about being a parent, AND you use your real name (I assume) and photos of yourself. What kind of consequences have you experienced since you “came out” and what have you gotten out of it? Is it more satisfying to be open?

I wonder where you are located? [Editorial note: near Seattle.] That makes a difference. I’m in the Bible Belt, St Louis MO, right in the middle of the U.S. It’s a conservative area, but not as bad as many think.

I do use my real name and pics of myself when blogging about parenting and my sexuality. I feel it’s important to demonstrate that people (particularly mothers!) are complex beings. It’s not healthy to deny or compartmentalize ourselves so much. It’s healthier to be fully integrated. Trouble is, that is very difficult to achieve in our society. People fear losing jobs, kids, families if people were to find out who they really are!

When I came out as a sex-positive mom in Oct 2010, I faced some serious persecution. Before I came out, I lost my job for having a sex blog. After I came out, I was ostracized, judged, and my ex-husband sued me for full custody of my daughter. I almost lost her and my house. I went into debt. It was very scary.

BUT I did not back down, I didn’t cave, I stood my ground. I walked through the fire and got out on the other side. And it was SO much better on the other side! It got better.

Now, I enjoy the respect of the community. The media contacts me for my opinion on issues that are near and dear to me. My relationships are stronger than ever. People who said terrible things about me and turned on me returned, sheepish and apologizing. I have a good job where my activism is a non-issue. I was able to keep my house. Best of all, my ex-husband dropped the suit against me right before it went to trial. He realized he could not prove I was an unfit mother. I’m a single mom working full-time and am raising an amazing, creative, knowing daughter. She is wiser than most adults I know!

I think everyone should explore their role in society on their own terms. Obviously a pre-school teacher couldn’t do what I did. At least not right now. But I’ve seen more and more people successfully claiming their sexual rights, and it’s extremely heartening. I’m proud to be an example. I hope my story inspires, and I’m very excited for my 12 year old daughter’s future – I think we’ll see a lot of progress by the time she’s 18!

I’ve decided to participate in Sinful Sunday, a weekly collection of erotic photos. Follow the link to see some awesome photos and to read other fabulous sex blogs. This week marks the 69th edition of Sinful Sunday, so I chose to share with you a new photo of Harold and I in a creative 69 position, taken by David Steinberg. He’s such an amazing photographer!